


A Case of You

by Lyrabelacqua (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lyrabelacqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Sansan Secret Valentine Meme! My prompt: "Sansa is a doctor that volunteers to help during a crisis (eg collapsed building, fire!, earthquake). Sandor is a cop that refuses to ask for help even though he is obviously in dire need of it, because he has a job to do damn it! The story can start at any point in the narrative (from initial meeting to sexy timezzz), writer’s choice!"</p><p>I could not for the life of me come up with a disaster situation that felt appropriate, so I switched it up a bit. Shout out to Web MD because writing I realized just how little I know about veterinary stuff, despite having dogs my entire life. This is pure fluff. Warning for a sick pet, but no "Marley & Me" shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Case of You

Sandor Clegane was usually woken by a cold nose to the face, courtesy his K-9 partner. He never had the heart to be mad at Sid, even though this morning ritual generally preceded his already-too-early alarm.

But on this morning, it was almost as if Sid knew it was Saturday and had decided to let him sleep in. Sid himself was still curled up in his doggy bed in the corner, long face hidden beneath his tail, when Sandor rolled out of bed and crossed to the bathroom.

“C’mon, Sid. Up, boy.”

Sid was four years old and 90 pounds, a cross between a German Shepard and ...something. His fur was a tawny black-brown, and his ears were a little too big for his face. He liked to sleep--and maybe he had seemed a little more tired than usual the past couple days, Sandor conceded as he brushed his teeth--but he wasn’t one to skip breakfast or his morning walk. And he definitely wasn’t one to ignore commands, especially when they came from his boss and best friend and champion. Sandor emerged from the bathroom and started rummaging through his dresser, growing a little more concerned as he noticed Sid still hadn't moved from the corner.

“What’s the matter, buddy? Not feeling so hot this morning?”

Sandor found a pair of mostly-clean jeans on the floor and put them on. He shrugged on a plaid shirt but left it unbuttoned as he padded over to Sid, who raised his head slightly. His eyes were glazed and shiny and seemed to be leaking. He tried to stand as his master got closer, but stumbled after a shaky half-step and collapsed at Sandor’s feet.

Sandor knelt beside him, immediately terrified. Sid looked up at him, his big black eyes scared and pleading. He moaned low in the back of his throat and pawed at Sandor helplessly. This was bad. Sid was fearless. Sandor had seen him chase down countless bad guys and once even jump into a moving car. He was fierce, and fiercely loyal to those he loved, namely Sandor. But he was hardly a vicious creature. Off-duty, he was mellow and somehow polite, even when begging for treats, and gentle with kids, seeming to know implicitly that they needed to be protected. He and Sandor had been paired up when Sid was still mostly a puppy, and had worked and lived together ever since. Sandor was good at his job, brutal when he had to be, but fair. He had received commendations several times. But he was hardly close to anyone at work beyond the occasional beer after a long day. He was hardly close to anyone at all, really. People were cruel and senseless. He had learned that truth well enough in childhood, but working in law enforcement had only cemented his distrust, hardened him further than his brother already had. He wouldn't ever admit it, but Sid was the closest thing he had to a friend. The fear of losing him settled somewhere around his heart, heavy and cold.

Sandor didn’t even want to leave the room--it tore at him to see Sid’s eyes follow as he walked to the kitchen--but he knew he needed to get him some water. He brought back his bowl, along with a couple milk bones. Sid could barely lift his head over the edge of the dish, so Sandor brought the water to him, letting him lap out of his cupped hand while he helped him raise his head. Sid laid down and seemed to go right back to sleep after that, ignoring his favorite treats. His breath was shallow and strained, and he nearly whimpered with every exhale. Sandor dried his hands on his jeans before grabbing his phone and speed dialing the Academy.

“Yeah, this is Officer Clegane. I need to see the vet right away. What--what do you mean? For the whole week? Well, who’s the emergency vet? No, I don’t know, it’s my partner, Sid ... his breathing is shallow and he’s not moving much. Won’t eat. No, goddamit, I only noticed this morning. I need a vet now. Okay. Yeah. Okay. What’s the number?” He scribbled it down quickly along with a name, Dr. Stark, which he underlined twice. “Alright, okay. Thanks.”

Sandor decided his pick-up’s extended cab would be more comfortable than the K-9 unit. He scooped up Sid, doggy bed and all, and walked him gingerly to the truck, cradling him like he might a giant infant. Once settled in the back seat, the dog gave him that long, mournful look again, as if he wanted to ask for help but didn’t want to be a burden. Sandor rushed back into the house and gathered his phone, wallet, and the folder labeled “SID” with all his vet records. He doubled back after realizing he had forgotten his keys and only remembered to button his shirt as he backed out of the driveway.

He called the new vet.

***

Sansa Stark rose early, as she did every Saturday morning. She made coffee, picked up the paper from the stoop, and cut a big slice of lemon tart, bringing all three back to bed with her. Her gray tabby, Flor, stretched languidly across the duvet and eyed the pastry. Sansa swatted her away gently with the front page. "Your breakfast is in the kitchen and you know it." Flor looked highly offended but jumped lightly off the bed and headed for the kitchen nevertheless.

Her cell rang and she reached for it, groaning. It was a number she didn't recognize and she considered letting it go to voicemail--it was only 8:00, after all--but then she remembered that she was technically on emergency standby while the vet at the police dog academy was out of town.

"Dr. Stark speaking. Yes, that's correct. Okay. Okay, and what are his symptoms? For how long now? Okay. Well, with that kinda lethargy and the not eating, that could be any number of things, so I'm going to need to see him right away and then we might want blood work and maybe X-rays. I can meet you at my office in ten--no, I'm not--no, sir, on call means on call, it doesn't necessarily mean in the office at 8 in the morning on a weekend. Yes, I understand that, and that's why I'm on my way to meet you right n--Oh, am I? Well, you're incredibly rude, has anyone ever told you that? Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. Uh-huh. Look, the longer you keep me on the phone the longer it's going to take me to get to your dog. Alright? Fine."

Flor had returned at the sound of her agitated voice, and stood staring up at her person, mystified. Sansa spoke, more to herself than the cat, and tossed the phone back on the bed with a little more force than necessary.

"What an asshole."

She was in her scrubs and ready to go in under three minutes, having perfected her emergency morning routine for cases like this.

Flor was perched delicately on the edge of the sofa now, and Sansa rubbed her ears and cooed at her. "Bye, my little one. Be a good girl."

***

Sansa got out of her car just in time to see a big truck screeching to a halt at the corner before slowly turning into the shopping center lot.

She turned to unlock the clinic door, resolutely not looking at the dickhead who had been so short with her for no reason just a few minutes before. Sansa knew stress, and heartbreak, and the terrible mix of the two that was unique to losing a pet. She knew it ran you down, made your patience fray and your temper snap. But it was no excuse for treating someone--especially someone trying to help--like that man had just treated her over the phone. She was a good vet, in part, because she got along with her clients as well as she did her patients. While she couldn't say she fell in love with people the way she almost immediately did with animals, she knew intrinsically how they worked, what they wanted to hear, and how to comfort them. She could already tell that was not going to be the case here.

The man--she didn't even know his name, but he was definitely a cop--was by her side soon enough, cradling a huge bundle of brownish dog close to his chest. She couldn't help but melt a little at the sight. Vet school and two years of practice had failed to desensitize her: there was still something about big men with cute animals that did her in.

She had to suppress a gasp, though, when her eyes reached his face, horribly scarred by what looked like burns on one side, from his hairline to his brow, across his cheek and down his neck, reaching all the way past the collar of his shirt. She didn't want to think about how he may have gotten those.

He noticed her reaction, but to her credit, she didn't stare--or studiously not stare, which was just as bad--once she saw his face. Part of him knew he should apologize for being such an ass before, but he didn't know what to say and it felt stupid to be worried about that when Sid could be dying, for all he knew. He said nothing, just set his jaw and glanced away. There were things about her he couldn't help but notice, though, like her hands as they tucked that lovely hair behind her ears, and her eyes so blue they made him think of stained glass. She stayed silent, holding the door open so he could cross the threshold, before leading him back to the exam rooms, flipping on light switches as she went.

"Okay, you can put him down right here."

Sandor bent to set Sid--still half-wrapped in his bed--down as gently as he could on the cold metal exam table. His breathing did seem a little stronger, but he still wasn't himself. Sansa let Sid sniff her hand before petting him, rubbing his ears, mumbling close and low so only he could hear. His ears perked up a bit and his tail thumped softly against the table. She checked his legs and paws, looked at his ears and eyes and teeth.

Sandor suddenly remembered the folder and held it out to her, looking down. She reached across the table for it, waiting for him to look her in the eye before she said "thank you." His expression, half-masked by scars and his heavy brow, seemed to soften when he looked at Sid, she noticed. He swallowed hard under her gaze and tilted his face away again.

She flipped through the pages, stopping here and there to scan for more detail. Sandor felt as helpless as Sid looked, so he just kept petting him, stroking his ears the way he liked and muttering an endless stream of goodboythat'sitbudyou'regonnabefinethat'sagoodboy.

Sansa closed the folder after a long moment and moved a little closer, reaching down to pet Sid, too. Their hands brushed but neither of them moved away.

"I'll have to take blood work to be 100% sure, but I think he has Lyme disease. It's not uncommon around here, especially this time of year. I'm going to give him a shot right now and he'll have be on antibiotics for a couple weeks, but then he should be fine."

It wasn't her actual words that reassured him so much as the sound of her voice, a sweet cadence he wanted to hear again. He wondered what he would have to do to hear her laugh. Sandor sighed deeply and couldn’t suppress his own laugh, he was so relieved to know Sid would be alright.

"Thank you."

She rummaged quickly in a cabinet and then took Sid's blood before giving him the shot, so gentle and practiced he hardly seemed to notice the needles. Sandor could only hope that she didn't notice he had to look away when she brought out the syringes.

“I’ll get the medication and meet you up front in a minute.” Her hands were in her pockets and she smiled, small and polite and professional, before leaving the room.

***

Dr. Stark was waiting by the door when Sandor returned with Sid, who seemed to be adapting just fine to the whole being-carried-around thing.

“Look, I’m sorry about ear--”

“I’ve got everything you n--”

They both laughed awkwardly and then Sansa continued.

"Everything you need is right here. One pill twice a day for two weeks. First pill tonight. He might be a little shaky for the next few days, but his appetite should come right back. I'm also giving you a stronger flea and tic medication, whatever he's using now didn't do it's job."

"Thanks. And I--I want to apologize, for the way I spoke to you earlier. You were right, I was rude. It was out of line, and I'm sorry."

Sansa was used to brushing off false apologies, saying, "no, please, it was nothing," even when a slight had truly hurt her. It was those useless gestures, the "pleases" and "thank yous" and "oh, you shouldn't haves," that sealed the delicate peace of a given social environment. Sansa was a master of them. But she could tell that this man was not someone who took his words lightly, and besides, she was a little sick of being compliant.

"Thank you for apologizing." Her voice was sincere, almost solemn, and for a moment he wondered if she was mocking him. "I forgive you, Officer ...?"

"Clegane. Sandor. My first name is Sandor."

"Alright." She paused, testing the weight of his name on her tongue. "Sandor."

They stood, just looking at each other, for a long moment, until Sid started to squirm and Sandor made to awkwardly reach for the car keys in his back pocket.

"I'll get them!"

Sandor stood stock still, thinking he must have misunderstood her, but half a second later she had reached around his hip and snagged the keys. She would have made an excellent pickpocket. She smiled brightly and arched her brows, as if silently daring him to comment on the fact that it was only cotton that had separated her hand from his ass.

She stepped outside with him and unlocked the truck, then pulled open the back door and stepped out of the way so Sandor could put Sid down. He made sure to arrange the bed carefully so he would be as comfortable as possible. Sansa ruffled Sid's fur one last time and planted a tiny kiss on the bridge of his nose.

She turned back to Sandor then, handing off the keys and the bag of antibiotics.

"Let me know if anything changes, if you don't see any improvements in the next couple days."

"I will, yeah, I'll call you. Thank you again, Doctor, for helping him."

He reached out a large hand and found hers warm and strong in his grip.

"It's Sansa. Call me 'Sansa.' Please."

***

Two Months Later

Sansa rolled over, not yet ready to be awake, but Sid was persistent.

"He's your dog, you know. How did I get stuck with morning walk duty?"

"You wanted him to like you and now he loves you. This is the price you pay."

Sandor had been awake for a few minutes, ever since Sid had started his pace around the bed. He knew he should get up and walk the dog himself, but instead he had been playing absently with her hair, mesmerized by the spun silk between his fingers. Now she turned and nuzzled into his neck, making him shiver and groan and reach for her hip, drag her closer. She was wearing one of his police department tees and only the barest hint of lace. It was his favorite combination.

Her nails dug a little into his shoulder as she angled herself closer, loving the feel of him all along the length of her. He went slow, one big hand still across her hip, his thumb rubbing small circles into her skin. She reached for his other hand now, lacing her fingers through his. Her kisses moved from his neck to his jaw, she had just met the corner of his mouth when Sid moved to full-blown whining. Sansa groaned a little and pulled away, unsatisfied. Sandor missed her already and knew then he was a lost cause, the momentary lack of her a pang he couldn't--didn't want to--deny. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered, breath hot against his collarbone. She climbed out of bed as Sid bounded to the room for his leash.

“You’d better be.”

“Is that so?”

“Please?”

 

 


End file.
